The Firebender's Finger
by Shadow Wasserson
Summary: Some inventions are better left unmade.


Disclaimer: If you wish to find the one who owns Avatar, look not to me but to the company called Nickelodeon

Disclaimer: If you wish to find the one who owns Avatar, look not to me but to the company called Nickelodeon. They will set you on your path.

A/N: Takes place after Day of Black Sun.

* * *

**The Firebender's Finger**

The Fire Nation Princess was not one for preambles. "You have a choice," she stated, with the air of one tired after a long day of interrogation. "You can set your admirable mind back to the good of the Fire Nation, or we can ship you around the Earth Kingdom piece by piece until one finds the Avatar. What will it be?"

The Mechanist said nothing. What could he say to _that_? He tried his best to glare, but had the odd suspicion that he only looked ridiculous.

Azula merely grinned, and leaned forward. "War Minister Ching told me about you. About your ingenious idea to use heated air to make flying machines. And now we have designs for swimming machines as well! Thanks to you, the Fire Nation will conquer the sea and the sky. We will be the greatest Nation to ever exist." She cocked her head in a way that might have been endearing, had it been anyone else. "I haven't forgotten gratitude, you know. I can be kind. Give up this ridiculous resistance and things will get much better for you. This cell can't be all that comfortable. And who knows? We could even spare your son, when we find him…"

"Teo!" The shout was reflexive, and he couldn't take it back.

Azula smirked. "Yes, Teo. Poor little cripple. I don't suppose he's much use in battle. He doesn't stand a chance. But we could bring him back to you, protect him. He doesn't need to come to harm. Or, we could treat him like any other foe. Your choice."

The Mechanist shook his head. "He already has protection, and from people much more powerful than you."

"Have it your way." Azula closed her eyes and shrugged. "Maybe after a few days to think it over you'll change your mind."

"Put him in the Dark Room," she ordered the guard outside. "This cell is far too cushy."

The Dark Room was a cell specifically made to break difficult prisoners. Too small to lie down in or even sit comfortably, it forced the prisoner to stand in complete silence and darkness, with only a bit of water to make sure they stayed alive. Even the guards thought that it was too harsh a punishment for the Mechanist, but the Princess' word was law.

Three days later, when they opened the door to the Dark Room, the Fire Princess was greeted with a wave of stench. The Mechanist was taken out, stumbling, filthy, and gaping in the bright light like a carp. He fell to his knees and groaned. _Amazing, really, the difference a little alone time can have on a stubborn prisoner, _Azula mused, and smiled despite the smell. "Well, you've had plenty of time to think. What will it be? A life of good service to the Fire Nation, or back in the cell? All of this can be over. Just say the word."

The Mechanist opened his mouth. "Yes," he rattled. "Yes."

"Very good." Azula motioned to the guards to bring him to his feet. "You won't be sorry."

* * *

_I am a coward._ The Mechanist sat at his desk, staring at his clean cot, his barred window, his papers, his basin of washing water. _I am a worthless coward. What would Teo think of me?_

He shuddered and turned back to his work. There wasn't much. He couldn't concentrate, not with his son gone with the Avatar and everyone else still in the dungeons, and not with faceless guards stationed outside of his room day and night. He was under too much stress, and it was rattling his nerves. Azula had made it very clear: either invent something worthwhile or go back into that terrible room, back to starving and soiling himself in utter isolation. He shuddered at the memory, and loathed himself for his weakness.

So, he had to cook up something. But didn't that horrible Princess understand? He couldn't just invent on demand! He needed something to spark his creativity.

It was with this in mind that the Mechanist asked the guards if he could be allowed a walk outside, if only in the interest of fresh air, and it was a measure of either how much they trusted him or how little a threat they considered him that they agreed. His hands were tied behind his back (as if he was a bender, or a warrior!) and he was led outside, onto the flank of the mountain where the prison was located. To his surprise, the guards led him down the path to the city itself, where they were soon swallowed by the hustle and bustle of human activity. The citizens must have been used to being in a state of military alert, since they did not pay any notice to the disheveled, middle-aged man being led by armed guards through the city. The Mechanist looked around, trying to absorb as much of the city as he could. If he ever escaped, it would be important to know the lay of the land.

His gaze was drawn by two children, a boy and a girl, playing with a firecracker. They had built a platform out of pebbles, and, giggling, they placed the firecracker on top of it. With a flick of a finger, it was lit, and it went off with a loud bang.

The loose pebbles flew everywhere, and the boy lurched backward, bawling and clutching his eye. The girl began to cry, drawing the attention of a nearby adult, who immediately began to fuss over the boy.

The Mechanist looked at the ground as the guards led him on. The wheels in his mind turned, and suddenly clicked. _Dammit, _he thought. _I have an idea._

* * *

The Mechanist was not permitted to handle the materials he designed, for fear he might use the weapon he was designing against the guards or himself. He could only write out the blueprints, and this naturally slowed his progress. He would send out the plans with the guards, and they would bring the finished component back to him from the forge, spears and flames at the ready should he try anything. He never did, only examined the piece in silence and then gave it back along with more plans and revisions.

There was little of interest for the guards to report, though they often hoped for some show of resistance or power from this most unusual prisoner, if for no other reason than to vary the monotony of watching him. He never requested to be taken outside again, which of course meant the guards couldn't leave either. Instead, he spent much of his time working manically at his desk, muttering about sulfur percentages and spark rock alignments. And when he wasn't working, he was moping, slumped over in a corner in silence. It made very boring viewing.

When the Mechanist was finally done, the Princess was summoned, and the he presented his invention to her. It was an odd looking thing, a long hollow metal tube with a handle attached. "What is this?" Azula asked, looking slightly amused. "Some kind of club?"

The Mechanist straightened. "No, it is not a club." He took the object back, and demonstrated holding it up and sighting along it like a longbow. "It is a device for hurling small projectiles at high speed."

The Princess looked dubious. "Projectiles? It looks nothing like a bow. If you are wasting my time…"

Fear bloomed in the Mechanist's face. "It's not a waste of time!" he cried. "Here, let me show you…."

He fumbled with the object, caught up despite himself in the wonder of seeing his idea brought to life. He flipped open a compartment in the back. "You put firecracker powder in here," he said nervously. "And you put some small object in here, a pebble perhaps, or something cast out of metal. The closer it fits the tube, the better. Then you press this lever on the handle, which strikes two spark rocks together to set the powder on fire, which creates force that propels the object. Although, I suppose you could design it to work by firebending as well." He looked up anxiously. "Of course, I can't say anything for its accuracy or range, not having the chance to actually use it, but the theory is sound. It's the same concept as putting shrapnel into a smoke bomb."

Azula was silent. She reached over and took the weapon, turning it over in her hands. Finally, she spoke. "What do you call it?"

"The Firebender's Finger," replied the Mechanist, staring at the floor. "I believe that it will serve your purpose." _The purpose of killing my countrymen_.

"Yes, said Azula quietly, still appraising the Firebender's Finger intently. "Yes, I think it will."


End file.
